


Life Breaks Dee

by WeirdItalianPlumber



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Underage Sex, but it's mentioned rather than described, important life moments, mostly precanon, present and past, sorta child neglect, tw for depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 19:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdItalianPlumber/pseuds/WeirdItalianPlumber
Summary: After a breakthrough therapy session, Dee drinks and remembers life events that shaped her





	Life Breaks Dee

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a Dee-centric fic for a while and finally did! Check tags and summary if you need details first. It's fairly dark and sad, but nothing I would consider too much.

Dee takes the fourth bottle out of the six-pack sitting on the floor of her apartment. She pops the cap off and takes a drink. She had an appointment with her therapist today. A different one, who probably wouldn’t make her do the dishes. Who listens when Dee tells her stories and seems to pick out her problems from her lies, rather than calling her out on it. She gets into Dee’s mind without Dee knowing, gets her talking about herself without realizing she’s being analyzed. When Dee figured it out, she snapped at her to “stop using your psychology tricks on me”, but continued talking anyway, because someone was actually listening to her. 

It sometimes leaves her feeling unzipped and vulnerable, like everyone else has X-ray vision for her. 

\------ 

“Do you know what they call that, Dee?” the therapist asks in _ that tone _, when Dee finishes a story. 

“Yeah,” she laughs, “having an asshole family.” 

But the therapist doesn’t laugh, too. She rarely does. “Abuse,” she says simply. 

Dee freezes, suddenly feeling hot and uncomfortable. For once, she doesn’t have a witty retort. “No,” she says. “It’s not- no,” her voice is getting high and she can’t stop it. “I wasn’t- not like my friend Charlie. Now he got it bad.” _ Good, Deandra _ , she thinks, _ divert _. 

“If that’s true, then I’m sorry for him. But this is about you.” It’s rare she hears something is about her and not her brother or their asshole friends. She’s not enjoying it like she usually would. “There’s all types of abuse- physical, sexual,” she says, pausing for emphasis on the next one, “emotional. Even neglect.” 

According to the clock there’s twenty-three more minutes in their session, but Dee doesn’t remember the rest. 

\------ 

She was supposed to go to Paddy’s after, but goes home instead, unable to handle the gang’s insults today. Dee grabs a full six-pack out of the fridge, fully aware that a single or two isn’t going to do the trick, then plucks up a half-empty bottle of Jack, too. She sits on her couch, then turns the TV on and stares ahead, the sound only background noise to her thoughts. 

The word weighs heavy on her. She’s an abuse victim. Dee’s known for years that she’s had a shitty life, but hearing that word changes things. She could use it as an excuse, whenever she’s told she’s awful or did something bad. “I was abused,” she could state and the problem would go away. She’d get pity from people; they’d forgive her then admire her strength. 

She peels herself off the couch and wanders into her bedroom. She digs in her dresser for a pajama shirt, carefully avoiding her reflection. She extracts one and pulls her shirt over her head. This time she catches sight of herself when she reemerges from the garment. As much as she hates the sight, Dee can’t make herself look away: standing there with red eyes and frizzy hair in only a bra and jeans. She’s drawn to her shoulders, how even they are, something she’s taken for granted for almost two decades as it’s become normal. She turns and watches herself over her shoulder, traces the ridges of her spine with a finger, observing at how almost _ normal _it looks. There are still days when it hurts like hell, those cold winter mornings when she can’t get out of bed. She’ll call Dennis telling him she’ll be in late, and he’ll respond with “who cares” or something about how useless she is. 

*** 

Dee stands in her bedroom in her new bra she bought at Victoria’s Secret the week before in an attempt to feel something good for once. It’s hot pink and shimmery, something she imagines a princess or a mermaid would wear. She tries not to cry as she traces the curve of her spine, a reminder of how ugly she is, and how the impending backbrace is only going to make things worse. She never stood a chance of looking like those women on magazine covers. Even with her brother watching TV in the next room and her parents arguing loudly in the foyer, she feels alone. Dee silently curses Dennis for being the golden child, wishes for him to get fat and ugly and flunk out of school, to suffer even a little bit like she has. But that’ll hurt even more, when Barbara still favors her stupid ugly son over her smart and beautiful daughter. Hell, while she’s missing school to get her spine fixed and life ruined, Dennis is missing school, too, “out of fairness” as her mother put it, sitting home all day doing whatever he wants. 

\------ 

She blames her mother for not catching it sooner, or rather for ignoring it long enough to progress. “Stand up straight, Deandra” she’d hiss, prodding at her daughter, then ignore her squirming and whine of “I’m trying” and “I can’t.” It’s her mother’s insults that even got it noticed, when Dee tried out for the girls’ basketball team in an effort to put her gangly limbs to good use and to finally lose some of the weight Barbara always saw. The stupid school physical caught it, then after several doctors and a lot of prodding, she was fitted for a brace. Scoliosis, they said. A scary word, but not as scary as The Aluminum Monster. 

*** 

Dee nervously pushes some hair behind her ear, standing in front of her mother and a full-length mirror. It’s possibly the only thing she doesn’t hate about herself, the blonde locks that used to match her brother’s. He grew out of it, but it’s something she managed to keep. Both born with the same platinum blonde, then both darkening like their souls with age; Dennis reaching a light brown, while Dee stopped at an ashy blonde. It’s something neither of her parents have, which makes Dee grateful for the difference; Frank’s grateful not having tow-headed kids, he said. Some pieces get tangled in the bars encircling her head, and the doctor helps her untangle it, while her mother looks like she wants to get out of that embarrassing place. No bitter words come as they leave the office and walk to the car. Dee struggles a few steps behind her, still learning to move with the added weight and constricted movement. Barbara side-eyes her when they reach the car, commenting how big she looks now. Is she even trying? 

Dee thought she had been doing good. They had to set the belt at the second to last notch, one smaller than when she was fitted. Sitting in the car is hell, the metal pieces poke into her skin as she tries to adjust to a more comfortable position. She lifts her arm in an attempt to pull down the visor-mirror, in order to study her new look again; Maybe it’s not as bad as she thinks. She’s unable to lift her arm high enough in her personal prison, and instead settles for staring out the windshield. 

_ *** _

Months before she got sentenced to seven years in a metal cage, she woke up one Saturday morning, excited for a day of TV. But that was quickly ruined when she discovered blood on her sheets and pajama pants. When she told her mother, her only response was “don’t get pregnant.” Instead of a bonding moment like those cheesy health class movies promised, Dee dug around in her parents’ bathroom before finding a box of tampons and then spending twenty minutes trying to figure out how to use one. She ended up doing a load of laundry then making some popcorn and lying in bed. 

\----- 

She puts on pajamas and crawls into bed, a refuge now, but also where she’s lured countless men, in desperation for someone’s approval, to feel desirable. 

*** 

Dee doesn’t remember his name, but remembers how special he made her feel even though she knew it was all lies. It all happened on the Reynolds’ yearly trip to the Jersey Shore. She meets him on the boardwalk, playing one of the rigged games with his friends. She stops to watch his taut muscles move, the start of some abs right above his swim trunks. When one of his buddies points out an awkward girl is staring at him, he checks her out too, eyes trailing between her short cut-offs and top of her two-piece. 

Dee is fifteen, and he’s seventeen. She’s dating Brad Fisher at the time, but he was all the way back in Philly and would never have to know about this. They kiss in public, open-mouthed, and he tells her she’s pretty, and Dee loves it, craves hearing those words again and again. 

She loses her virginity under the same boardwalk around midnight. It’s uncomfortable and nothing like she imagined her first time. The beach isn’t romantic, with the boardwalk above blocking the moonlight, and sand below matting into her braids, sticking to her damp skin and creeping in other places. When it’s over she feels disappointed, oddly satisfied and dirty. She goes back to the beach house, where she stands in the shower until the water turns cold. 

\------- 

Her first experience in independence is patchy memories from childhood. They’re only snippets, but that pain of rejection is branded into her existence. When they were young, like still in cribs young, Dee shared a bedroom with her brother. They’d both stand, leaning against the wooden bars, staring at each other from across the room, making faces and giggling. Barbara would come floating in, in a chipper mood, which in adulthood Dee realized was being high on some pill. They’d both shout with joy, reaching into the air and competing for attention. But every time Barbara would lift Dennis into the air, cooing about her “handsome boy”, then turning to her other child and stating “You’re just fine, Deandra.” She’d drop back down, finding some way to entertain herself until that month’s nanny would come in to collect her, too. 

\--- 

It’s a testament to how smart she is, Dee thinks, because it didn’t take long before she didn’t even try when Barbara walked into the room, ignoring her mother as much as her mother ignored her. She bragged about her genius to her therapist once, who found the terms “discouraged” and “demoralized” to be more accurate. 

It became good practice for the years she’d spend in her dark room as a teenager, quietly crying herself to sleep, a habit that lasted well into adulthood. Occasionally she’d imagine someone wrapped around her, comforting her, but it didn’t last long. There was no one around to comfort her as a child, she certainly doesn’t need one now. 

So, yeah, Dee’s found herself to be good at dealing with taking care of herself. Or “self-soothing” as her psychology professor in college called it. Who she later banged before flunking out of the class. 

But still, she’ll devour any scrap of affection thrown her way, something that started young and continued to grow. Frank always seemed to have a softer spot for Dee over her brother. There’d even be times when she was shown favoritism. Those rare moments when her father was home and those even rarer moments when he was nice to his kids quickly became significant to her. It’s the first encouragement she’s ever had. 

*** 

Dee’s sat in her high-chair, eating cheerios one-by-one and listening to her father talk. She’s too young to understand what he’s saying, but he’s in a good mood and paying attention to her. So, she eats her snack and soaks in the undivided attention. Frank pauses from shoving a massive forkful of sausage, pancake and eggs in his mouth to glare at his wife when she passes through the kitchen. 

“Barbara,” he states, acknowledging her. 

She looks from her husband to her daughter. “I see you’re taking after your father,” Barbara says to Dee in a judgmental tone, then disappears into the other room. 

“Your mother is a bitch,” Frank comments to her. 

Dee giggles at the new word, “bitch” she repeats. 

Frank laughs, it’s possibly the proudest he’s ever looked at her. “That’s my girl.” 

\------- 

She should be the favorite child, Dee thinks as she remembers all of the “worst is first” comments. Her parents should be mad at Dennis for existing- not her. They had this new perfect baby, only to have the moment ruined when another one came screaming into the world moments later, permanently stealing the spotlight from her. 

*** 

Dee stands outside the school, in jeans and a t-shirt. It’s cooler than it was that afternoon, early spring weather still inconsistent, so Dee shivers lightly and wishes she brought a jacket. Most of her makeup is washed off but green paint still lines her ears and hairline. Her hair is crunchy from all the hairspray, but it’ll all wash off when she showers before bed. 

Nobody is there to pick her up yet, even though the play ended an hour ago. Dee knew when she looked out into the audience and didn’t see her family that she’d be waiting for someone to come for her. So instead of hurrying out with the rest of the cast, to meet their families for celebratory dinners, Dee hung around. 

It’s not like she’s alone, though. A few other cast members and faculty stop by to congratulate her on her performance as Frankenstein before scurrying off to join their families. Dr. Meyers stops on his way out to compliment her again, placing a hand on her shoulder and saying how great she was. 

Dee is just considering finding a payphone, calling home to see if they forgot about her, when her mother’s car stops in front of her. When she climbs in the front seat, Barbara greets her with a “Hello, Deandra,” followed closely by, “don’t forget, we have to be up early tomorrow to attend your brother’s fencing tournament.” 

\------ 

Dee knows her flaws far outnumber what she likes about herself. She’s tried to fix them, only to have it crushed. By the time she was old enough to do anything about them, she’d already given up. 

*** 

Today is going to be the start of a new start. Yes, finally, something good is going to happen to Deandra Reynolds. At ten-years old Dee had saved enough from her pageant winnings to turn her life around. She collects some cash out of her sock-drawer and tucks it into her old My Little Pony purse. She swings it over her shoulder and walks the ten blocks to the bus stop. She takes two buses and another, shorter walk until she reaches her destination. She walks through the glass doors and straight to the counter. The lady behind it looks up. 

“Can I help you, hon?” 

Dee nods. “I need to get surgery.” The woman raises her eyebrow. “I have money,” Dee adds. 

“How old are you?” the woman asks. 

“Ten,” Dee responds. It’s kind of young, Dee knows, but she’s double-digits now, that’s got to mean something. She’ll just have the little stuff done now, save the bigger tasks for when she’s eighteen. Sixteen, if she can get a fake I.D. 

The receptionist grows concerned. “What kind of surgery do you need?” 

“Liposuction,” the young girl responds, “And I want bigger boobs,” she continues. “And can you fix my nose, too?” She sounds so confident in the beginning of the list, tone becoming hopeful in her last request. 

The woman observes her. She looks into blue eyes, so crushed and hopeful. “Oh, sweetie,” she says, the name much kinder than when her mother uses it. “You don’t need this stuff. You’re a pretty girl,” and gently sends her away. 

Disappointed and not ready to return home, Dee stops at a nearby ice-cream store and uses her money to order a sundae, which she finishes by herself. By the time she gets home it’s dark. Nobody seems to care that she was missing. 

_ *** _

In history class, they learn about infanticide, how some cultures would leave the weak and girl babies in the woods to die. Dee thinks if they had been born at another time, that would’ve been her. It scares the other girls in class. Sometimes she wishes she had been so lucky. 

*** 

Dee is fourteen and the four Reynolds are sat around the dinner table, eating in silence. Her father is home for once and Dee’s grateful for it. Barbara focuses all the criticism usually directed at Dee onto him, and watching the man shovel food into his mouth is enough to squash her appetite. Maybe she’ll finally lose that weight her mother is after. 

“Your father and I are hosting a party this Saturday, for his Atwater associates. You children will have to be on your best behavior.” 

Dee’s always liked those business parties. She gets a new dress, there’s always lots of snacks and an adult or two she can show off to. 

“I’m going to need a new dress,” Dee says. She’s had her brace for close to a year and hasn’t got a new one since. And she just wants one, okay? 

“Oh, no,” Barbara says, almost surprised at her daughter’s misunderstanding. “You’re not going to be there. We certainly can’t have you around with that atrocious thing.” 

Dee looks to Frank for his opinion, who simply shrugs. 

The night of the party arrives and Dee watches the maids and caterers prepare the house. When the guests start filing in, Barbara shoos her upstairs. 

The party has been going on for an hour, the sounds of music and voices travel upstairs as Dee is sat at her desk, reading. She hears a knock on the door, and Dennis enters in a suit that makes him look like a jackass. 

“What do you want?” she asks. 

He shows her the silver tray lined with fancy finger foods and desserts that he must’ve swiped from downstairs, “I thought we could hang out. Watch a movie or something.” 

“I don’t need your pity.” 

“I’m trying to be nice, you bitch. And this isn’t about you. That room is riddled with old fat men, their ugly wives and dweeb kids. Way below us. Even with you in that thing.” 

So, Dennis sees her on his level tonight. “Fine,” she sighs, making an effort to seem like she’s doing it for him. 

They sit on her bed and watch a VHS copy of Heathers, Dennis in his suit and a light layer of foundation, and Dee in her pajamas and stupid backbrace. It’s one of the few times Dee is glad she has a brother. 

_ *** _

There are some benefits to having parents that don’t give a shit about you. At twelve years old, the maid drops them off at the mall. They wander around, laughing at people and touching material of the latest fashions. It’s the first time either of them steals something, an adrenaline rush they’ll spend the rest of their lives chasing and a great bonding experience. They wander the stores browsing for something small, then one twin will distract the store clerk while the other twin slips the item in their sleeve and sneaks out the door. A necklace for Dee and mascara for Dennis. When they get outside, sitting on the bench, Dennis helps her clasp her new necklace then Dee helps him put on mascara for the first time. 

*** 

There have been times when Dee’s mistreatment went in her favor. One day when they were sixteen, they skipped school to go to the mall. They were going to get their ears pierced. Dee left her stupid brace in Dennis’s precious car because she deserves the chance to feel like a normal teenager sometimes. 

It’s becoming a popular trend for boys now, so naturally he has to do it. When they learned it was a sign of affluence and dignity in nobles, that settled it. He’s going to get a real diamond, too. They get to Claire’s, and make the request. The counter jockey asks for ID, because you have to be eighteen, they pull out their fake ones, with matching smiles. They look real, with matching birthdays too, because details matter. The woman looks at them slightly suspiciously, but they stand strong, with an innocent confidence. It works, she simply comments, “Twins, huh?” as she passes them back. 

Dee goes first since she’s getting her second set and has been through this before, sitting in the tall chair with confidence. Dennis looks nervous when he climbs into the chair, and Dee ends up having to hold his hand. 

When they get home, they crowd the bathroom mirror staring at their reflections, Dennis prattling about how jealous his friends will be. Their parents don’t think so; Frank states that his son isn’t going to be poked full of holes, and the twins both catch on that it’s a homophobic comment, while Barbara agrees and makes him take it out. Dee’s allowed to keep hers, though, because it’ll help distract from all her other flaws. 

*** 

She had no choice in who her family was, but chose to surround herself with the assholes who tear her down every day. Ronnie complains that this girl still hanging around kills their manly vibes and freedoms, while her own goddamn brother, who’s needed her so many times in life already, just takes a drag of his cigarette and doesn’t defend her. At least Charlie has the decency to pull his nose out of a bag of glue to comment “she’s not that bad”, which is, sadly, one of the nicest things someone has said about her. 

Graduation is going on. All their classmates are gathered in the back of the school. But instead of joining them on the make-shift stage, they’re all hiding out for various reasons: ever since Tim Murphy slept with his prom date, Dennis refused to grace that group with his presence. Dee refuses to make a public appearance as The Aluminum Monster; none of the four were confident that Charlie should be graduating, and found it best to hide him, just in case the faculty realized this. And Ronnie, well, he’s just desperate enough for affection that he goes wherever Charlie and Dennis do. 

Dee is stood against the brick building, a beer bottle to her lips. She can hear the speaker ramble on and on. They’re hiding by the dumpsters, the stench of garbage in the air. It’s something she got used to over the years, and turns out to be good practice for the future smells of Paddy’s. 

The boys all continue their asinine behavior and continue to ignore her, but Dee sticks around watching, and occasionally butting in. 

Music plays and cheers erupt in the background, and the four know that the ceremony is over. They shout and throw their beers to the concrete, then mingle into the crowd for the party. 

\------ 

It’s another night of lying in her bed alone, the darkness a comforting blanket where she can disappear from herself. 

Her phone dings on the nightstand, and she knows it’s one of the guys caving in and asking where she is. Dee ignores it, hoping they’re worried, as she begins to doze off. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's it. Thanks for reading. Kudos or comment if you liked it :) This was mostly self-indulgent, but validation means a lot.
> 
> Thank you to hotpinkcoffee for betaing! I recommend going to read her fic, Deandra Reynolds: Queen of the Spiders, a fantastic look at precanon Dee and Charlie and their growing ups.


End file.
